Rain

The sky seemed to ache above me. A flat, toneless gray, it sat there, content to merely exist. I was sitting in the rain, small cold drops hitting my shoulders and legs. The reason why I sat there was lost even to me. The green foliage of the trees shuddered at they were kissed by the rain, I watched them steadily. The branches would bend ever so slightly as the leaves collected, then in a rush; they would bow, splattering the pavement below with a few large drops. The process would repeat again.

The contrast of the red wood of my deck and the lush emerald grass framed my view to my right, to the left, the shining grey reflection of the slate sky in a window. My thoughts were only broken by the sounds of ugly machinery working nearby. I scowled. Trust humanity to ruin a moment like this, with their iron machines and tools that seem to defy everything nature intended. I wondered vaguely how long it had been since any of the workmen sat in the rain and listened, if they had ever done so.

The puddles around my feet danced as the rain fell, shimmering silver pools that rippled happily when touched upon. I traced my fingers through the nearest one absentmindedly, why was I out here? Intrigued, I watched my jeans soak up the rain. The drop would sit there on the fabric for the smallest moment, triumphant at its victory over gravity, but would inevitably then sink dejectedly into the jeans to touch my skin. I laughed inwardly at its presumption.

My reflections meandered thoughtlessly; my face was turned to the sky. The rain was not like any poet would describe, as soft tears cascading down ones face or any thing of the like. They hurt, jarring me a little, as if they wanted an answer as much as I did to my question and were probing me for the answer; why was I out here? After a time the rain became disenchanting, settling in my mind as merely cool water instead of soothing sound. I got up and brushed water into the place I had been sitting. It should be a secret that I sat there for so long.

But I would return to my creature comforts of my house, as I always will. Even now as my hair smells of fresh air and my clothes dry upstairs, as I sip coco and try in vain to tell you of my experience, I wonder why I went out there. It may seem trivial to you, maybe even a little daft, but I will continue to wonder.